


Crossroads

by starrylitme



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Gen, Insecurity, Introspection, Papyrus-centric, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I have places to go.", Routine, Slice of Life, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: Post-Pacifist AU where Frisk has things to do and everyone else is just going about their days living on the Surface. Papyrus does just that, with some struggling. Only some!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinsational_Sinnabon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinsational_Sinnabon/gifts).



> I posted this as a secret santa on tumblr and am now posting it here!! Yep. Sure am! It'll probably be easier to keep track of or something? I don't actually know.
> 
> Writing from Papyrus's perspective is a struggle, but an enjoyable struggle. And for some reason, I haven't actually posted a oneshot entirely dedicated to the Skelebros even though I love them lots? Wow, weird!
> 
> This story is fairly headcanon heavy, especially where Frisk is involved. And, honestly, I don't see this variation of the Pacifist ending done very often even though it's very interesting and has a lot of potential in its own right. Ah, hopefully you find this fic interesting and enjoy it as well?

The light was still red, and the handprint was still bright and imposingly orange. He’d been antsy since arriving at the street corner to cross, and even now he was shifting from one foot to the other and rattling under his coat. Thankfully the sound was muted, and no one commented on it, not even the humans. Oh, there were still curious pairs of eyes that he could just feel— _in his **bones** OH MY GOD **NO**_ —but if he struck conversation now, he’d miss the light! He absolutely cannot afford to be distracted!

...Sans looked like he was close to dozing off. _Un_ be _liev_ able.

That stiff, tired grin almost had the telltale little twitch whenever his underactive brother started dreaming. His posture was despicably slouched, chin ducking into the collar of his turtleneck. A little human almost reached for him—possibly to tug on his sleeve, but a larger human quickly pulled her back by the hand.

“No,” they said firmly, squeezing her hand as the little one nodded meekly.

Papyrus stared, feeling...something. Hollow, almost—which was expectable because he was a skeleton, but—this kind of hollow was more...metaphorical, perhaps? Like he was missing something? Strange. Unpleasantly strange.

Oh, but, holding onto the little one’s hand to keep them in line seemed like quite the good idea! A _GREAT_ idea, in fact! Humans really did share a skeleton’s resourcefulness!

Sans stirred as Papyrus gripped his hand and perked up. He blinked up at him blearily a few times, but that tired smile widened a bit, relaxed a bit, and Papyrus smiled back before returning his stare to the light.

And, as though falling in line with everything else, the light flashed green with the handprint replaced by a white, walking stick figure. And so Papyrus walked with the group, only having to tug Sans a little behind him. Some rushed on ahead, some pushed past, some kept on chattering with their friends or looking at their phone, and the other group from the opposite side of the street passed them by and—

A smaller human brushed past, with short brown hair and a purple striped sweater, and it felt like time slowed to a near halt.

Papyrus just about froze. But by the time he nearly spun around in turning to catch another surer glimpse—it was as if they had disappeared into the crowd.

Or they had never been there in the first place. He had just been imagining things and nothing else.

As he kept on staring, blinking and grin feeling awfully, uncomfortably rigid, there was a light tug on his hand.

“Bro?” Sans asked, and that hint of confusion and concern would have been impossible for someone less experienced than Papyrus to pick up on. “Uh, the light’s flashing.”

“Right,” Papyrus replied and pulled himself in the proper direction, hurrying along to the other side of the street.

 Sans’s grip on his hand— _Street Safety 101 according to humans: always hold onto the little ones via hand-holding so that they don’t fall behind or rush ahead, and Sans was quite small, small enough to qualify, Papyrus thought_ —also twitched. But Sans, of course, didn’t say a thing.

Sans just let himself be tugged along without complaint, calmly going with the flow as he tended to. Lackadaisical lazybones to the end. What else was new?

The number of bird singing overhead, perched on buildings and wires. The faces that’d pass the two of them by. The conversations overheard, the wafting scent of food and perfumes... The humans! Their _world_! All this time and so much still felt so _new_!

...Sans was really the only thing that stayed the same.

Blinking ahead, skull feeling weirdly fuzzy, Papyrus found himself yanking Sans a little harder after him. Sans stumbled a bit, grunting in surprise, but he regained his pace soon enough.

He felt Sans’s stare. But Sans, as expected, didn’t voice a thing.

* * *

When furnishing their new home, he had all sorts of new things he wanted to set up. A new couch, a new table, a chandelier, a pit of spikes, one of those beanie chairs he really quite liked—! Four out of five, Papyrus could live with. Sadly, the chandelier ended up succumbing _to_ the spike pit, but he _had_ been ecstatic nonetheless!

But Sans never asked for anything new. All the things Sans wanted in their new home were brought over from their old home. Sans did play funeral music for the furniture they had to throw away, but he accepted substitutes well enough. He liked the color of his new mattress compared to the old. But he also stared a little too long at the bed frame his very great brother had so lovingly rigged up. Perhaps Sans expected spikes?

But that’s a ridiculous thought. Papyrus knew Sans was more for lasers than spikes. A garbage preference picked up from Hotland, but a preference he nonetheless respected even if he oh so conveniently didn’t know how to combine them with the bed frame.

Sans didn’t complain. Sans didn’t say anything about the bed frame. Initially. Sans did thank him tiredly and almost absentmindedly the following morning in which he had slept draped over it. And, well, that had been that.

Life on the Surface, in Newer New Home, was an altogether pleasant experience. The road there had been fantastic, as well as the road back and the road over! So many roads to take in his shiny red car! It was bliss!

But, maybe, perhaps, Papyrus didn’t feel as blissful as he should have. It was...a strange conundrum and one he was strangely uncertain in how to approach. It was not to suggest he was in any way _unhappy_ , per _say_ , of _course_ , but...

Sometimes, even ones as great as he could be...uncertain.

And concerned. About Sans, always Sans, and a number of other Sans-related Sans things.

Sans.

Sans left so many ketchup packets on the table. Papyrus, great as he is as a person, a brother, and a _Papyrus_ , has already properly arranged them.

It hadn’t been enough to keep him fully distracted from his thoughts. He had run through his usual exercises of course. Thrice, in fact! He would go for the morning jog he always favored back in Snowdin, but he’s...yet to calibrate the best route. Once he does that, he’ll run and whoop to his soul's content! It’ll be perfect!

He just...needs to get around to it. Which he will, but he’s a very busy skeleton.

Very busy...in trying to figure out what’s the best thing for him to do in a world that’s still so foreign and so new. So different from Snowdin with its complete lack of snow and ice. He didn’t much care for the complete lack of snow and ice. Sliding was such a fun, important part of the morning jogs back home, but— _right_.

This is home now. It's Newer New Home, to be precise.

It’s different but it’s _home_. They even furnished it such with pictures and bone paintings and everything!

They had some really nice pictures. Like the one taken on the grand opening of Lady Toriel’s school! Or King Fluffyboy shaking hands with the Human Ambassadors! When he got his car and Sans snuck his thumb into the corner while taking the picture! When they left the Underground and the human Frisk took one last picture with everyone before they— _oh_.

The frame on that particular picture was crooked. Mangy mutt. Even here that little beast caused a ruckus. Huffy, Papyrus straightened it before standing back and proudly admiring his handiwork.

Even though his smile soon faltered when his stare inevitably got stuck on the little human’s stoic face, on how they just stared back at the camera with their fringe hiding their eyes and their lips pulled into a straight line. But, in the very least, they had their hand patting Lady Toriel’s paw on their shoulder. And _Sans_ , Sans pressed up against their side with his usual wide grin... Sans looked happy.

Papyrus’s smile returned so easily at that.

But he still wondered about that human friend of his, that Frisk. Frisk who wouldn’t fly to places, and Frisk who was modest enough to admit they had no redeemable qualities. Frisk who he may or may not have seen crossing the street. Frisk who had walked away from them with nothing more than a wave even as Papyrus had shouted that he’ll see them later.

He doesn’t know for sure if he really saw them at that time—but he does know that Frisk has yet to return his calls or messages. At some point, their phone just stopped taking anything. So, Papyrus only had the option of waiting to hear from them again. Thankfully, Papyrus was a greatly patient person, but of course.

Still, he...missed them. He missed them almost the same way he missed Snowdin, missed the Underground and the monsters who stayed behind rather than moving to the Surface, and he missed them like he missed his strange talking flower friend who wouldn't even show up when he went searching for him.

But. Papyrus is one who looks forward—that is why, after all, that his sockets are on the front of his skull! And even if it’s at nothing at all, he has to always do his best in the present rather than reminisce on the past! That’s perseverance! That’s _Papyrus_!

“Yo, bro.”

Papyrus gave an impressive leap with an even more impressive yelp.

“SANS!! You know you’re supposed to _USE THE DOOR_!!!”

“Eh,” Sans says as he picks unattractively at his teeth. “You’re only skittish like that when you’re deep in thought. Maybe you just think too much.”

“Better to be thoughtFUL than thoughtLESS!!” Papyrus hissed, pointing at him quite fiercely. Fierce enough that Sans winces, even as his grin widens. Papyrus just goes on. “ANYWAY! I was thinking! Ruminating! On food! I REALLY need to attempt some new recipes, Sans!”

Sans hums almost thoughtfully. “Like mac and cheese?”

Papyrus nods firmly, overlooking Sans’s quick glance towards the pictures on the wall.

“Well,” Sans says, dragging the word just a little. “That sounds great, Paps. You know the saying, _sky’s_ the limit. Just, uh, keep in mind the agreements on our lease.”

“Oh Sans, no one’s more of a thorough reader than I am,” Papyrus huffs, brushing past him to make his way into the kitchen. He pauses, gaze sweeping, and for whatever reason, he hesitates even as he forces himself to keep talking. “I know how to be careful, too, so that you of all people feels the need to worry about me is _just_...!”

He’s still not quite sure what to do, and even the words are stuttering like the dying sputters of a machine.

“Just... Just, um... _Huh_... Golly, what was I going to say...?”

“Papyrus.”

This time, he doesn’t flinch. But this time, he does turn his head rather slowly, his expression rather wary. But Sans was just grinning up at him like he always does, easygoing and calm. It’s then Papyrus notices that he’s holding up a plastic bag.

“I got takeout on the way, so you don’t have to cook anything if you’re not in the mood.”

“R...Ridiculous!” Papyrus scoffed, not very convincingly. “Not in the mood?! I, Papyrus, am ALWAYS in the mood!!”

“Kay,” Sans agreed so easily it was infuriating. “Well, this will be for later, then. That’s cool.”

“URGH, but if you already bought it, we might as well eat it! Really, Sans, who raised you to be so inconsiderate?!”

“Heh, good question." Sans doesn’t really take much of a pause. “Let’s go eat in the living room, then.”

“Not on the couch!” Papyrus exclaimed. “We have a PERFECTLY good dining table! Which so CONVENIENTLY doubles as a puzzle table!!”

“It’s a multi-purpose table, bro.”

_“TO OUR PUZZLING DINING TABLE!!!”_

“Kay.”

* * *

Sans called it bruschetta—a fascinating name for a fascinating piece of bread.

It also smelled weirdly nice as he picked at it. It didn’t take long for Papyrus to realize that there were some human ingredients. Most likely for added texture and taste, not that he really understood it.

He was more troubled because skeletons lacking a stomach had issues in regards to food that were best when _digested_. Sans, of course, didn’t mind at all and kept eating as sloppily as ever. Really, who raised him?

_Certainly not I._ Papyrus thought with a huff as Sans chewed noisily. **_Urgh_** _, he’s not even keeping his mouth closed!!_

“ _Sans_.”

Sans turned to him, mouth still full, mouth still chewing, and urgh, he had crumbs _everywhere_.

Perhaps a little rougher than he should have, Papyrus practically scrubbed his face clean with the napkins. Sans nearly choked, but he swallowed it all down and was back to a relaxed grin like his mood hadn’t been even the slightest bit stirred.

“Something up, bro?”

“Up?” Papyrus echoed, and got aggravated. “What’s up?! Nothing’s _up_!”

“So there’s really nothing bothering ya?” Sans asked, eye sockets half-lidded. “Nothing at all?”

“NO!” he screeched. Sans gave him a _Look_ , but he still had that insufferable grin because of course he did. Papyrus insisted, even louder, “Nothing’s up! Nothing at all! Nothing is BOTHERING me so I have no need for your BROTHERING, Sans!!”

“Well,” Sans says, pulling back and picking at his food again before tearing off a bite with his fingers. Gross. “If it’s really nothing, then I guess we’ll just...eat awkwardly in silence.”

“Yes, of course,” Papyrus replied, narrowing his sockets as he did, and throwing in an annoyed **_GROAN_** for good measure. “Because what ELSE is there to do when nothing’s up?!”

“You tell me,” Sans said, tossing the piece into his mouth and chewing it just as nosily as before. “There’s nothing to say when nothing’s up.”

_...Nothing to say..._

Papyrus couldn’t help but really wonder about that.

Sans, of course, looked content to drop the matter entirely in favor of eating (awkwardly except not _really_ ) in silence. In fact, Sans looked _too_ content. It bothered him.

What was also quite bothersome was how untouched his food was when Sans only had a few bites left. That—simply will _NOT_ do!!

Anything but someone outdone, Papyrus shoved everything into his mouth. He chewed furiously in a way Undyne would be proud. Sans just watched, silently, unchanging grin remaining. And he just blinked once as Papyrus swallowed it all down.

“Delicious!”

_A little messy,_ he thought, wiping himself off with the napkin. Still, he kept his satisfied grin. _But delicious!_

“You’re going to regret that later,” Sans said simply to which Papyrus scoffed.

“Me?! REGRET?! NEVER!”

“Kay.”

Just like that, without another word, Sans returns to eating. It’s back to awkward silence because there’s nothing to say. Because nothing’s wrong.

“UM...!”

Sans’s gaze flickers towards him, and he pauses. When Papyrus just rattles instead of going on, Sans takes one last bite before setting his bread down.

“ACTUALLY...!” Papyrus finally managed, clenching his fists tight. “I...!”

Sans nods, still chewing, and gestures for him to go on.

Papyrus hesitates.

“I...HAVE...a confession to something that...MIGHT be a little wrong...”

Sans swallowed.

“Yeah?”

"I... I...”

_ARGH! **FOR GOD’S SAKE!!! JUST SAY IT!**_

“I DON’T ACTUALLY LIKE COOKING HUMAN FOOD!!! AT **_ALL_**!!!!”"

“Oh...” Sans just blinks. “Kay.”

“It’s just—the finished product always comes out as WEIRD!” Papyrus exclaimed, impassioned and impossibly upset, especially as he ranted on. “And it’s so different from cooking with regular—with MONSTER ingredients! They don’t _burn_ right, they don’t _break_ right, they don’t even FEEL right! Nothing feels RIGHT!!! _NONE OF IT IS RIGHT AT ALL, SANS, **NONE**!!!!_ ”

“You don’t have to cook it, then,” Sans says like it’s just that easy and he just—he just _snaps_.

“IT’S NOT JUST ABOUT COOKING, SANS!!! OH MY GOD, THAT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS!!!”

“It is,” Sans replied. He’s still as calm as ever. He’s calm, and the hand he places on his arm is just as steady. “It’s totally obvious, Paps. I’m not a _numbskull_.”

Just like that, all his anger has fizzled. Papyrus, staring almost helplessly back, finds himself only capable of sighing.

“No,” he says and sighs again, more forlornly than dramatically. “No, you most certainly are not, brother. That’s not _you_.”

Sans’s smile twitches. It looks pained. It pains Papyrus to see it look pained.

So, without another word, Papyrus just pulls him close.

“It’s not you, either,” Sans mutters against him, patting his back. Papyrus could have suffocated him in his embrace—and he just settles with a tight but brief squeeze.

When he does pull away, Sans just grins up at him and returns to eating.

Despite everything, Papyrus felt quite a bit better. For the moment, at least.

* * *

It’s not surprising that Papyrus is up in the middle of the night. But truth be told, he doesn’t feel any less frustrated for it. Admittedly, that could just be because of the not-so-great nightmare before he awoke.

The nightmare of Sans— _always Sans_ —standing alone in a golden corridor, staring down at a shadowy mess, splattered against the tiles. Sans, smiling stiffly and painfully, eye awash in a frantic neon blue and yellow glow. Sans wouldn’t even respond to his name being called—nor to Papyrus reaching out to grasp onto his unmoving, outstretched hand.

Sans would just crumble to dust then and there, and Papyrus’s sockets would spring open. And he would just sit up in bed, tightly gripping the edge of his blankets hard enough to tear.

Out of all his nightmares, that’s the one he likes the least. It’s thankfully gotten less common, but—sometimes he still has it. And it never fails to leave him rattling, with his SOUL pulsing.

This time, it’s especially aggravating to be weighing on his mind when the house is as clean as can be, and when Papyrus is in no mood to cook after that recent confession.

He works through his puzzle books, he reads through his textbooks, but, ultimately, that ominous, invisible and incomprehensible weight left by the nightmare still refused to dissipate. He would scream, but that’d get them noise complaints. It just wouldn’t be worth it.

The worst part about this particular nightmare is that he’d always hesitate with checking up on Sans afterwards. At least at for a little bit. Not because he was upset with Sans, of course—but, because it was—complicated. And complicated feelings apparently did not care for the inevitable sight of Sans just sleeping his troubles away.

Because that’s all Sans would ever be doing. Sleeping his troubles away. He couldn’t understand that at all.

He is, however getting antsy. Protective brotherly instincts tend to overcome anything else, and, well, he really should make sure nothing’s amiss. That’d be the responsible thing to do. The _Papyrus_ thing to do!

So, that’s exactly what he should do. And what he, in fact, does do.

And Sans...isn’t sleeping. Sans isn’t even _in_ his room.

He’s not in the kitchen, either.

He’s not anywhere inside.

_He’s_ —

* * *

He’s on the rooftop again. Lying flat on his back, staring up at the night sky without a care.

Of course.

He’s almost too relieved to be annoyed. Almost. _Almost_.

“Sans.”

Sans perks up upon seeing him approach him. His grin widens, the lights in his eye sockets brightening.

“Evening, bro,” he greets with a wave. “Nice night out, eh?”

As Papyrus seated himself beside his prone brother, Sans just goes on without any worries, “So, uh, you _up_ for some stargazing, too?”

“I suppose.” His reply is perhaps a little too clipped. He still can’t help but feel a little too aggravated, and—that’s not Sans’s fault. It really isn’t. “I...had thought you disappeared off somewhere, brother. I was...greatly concerned.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sans pushes himself up a little. “I did wake up a little early and thought to get some open air—but I didn’t think you’d check on me. Did something...?”

Sans trailed off. When Papyrus’s gaze had flickered in his direction, Sans had shaken his head and laid back down.

“Eh, never mind. I really am sorry, though, so, uh,” The way Sans looks at him is a little pleading—and definitely a little unfair. “We cool, bro?”

Papyrus simply nodded.

“We are cool, Sans,” he said and looked back towards the stars. They glimmered overhead, each one twinkling, and some of them faded. Some seemed to disappear entirely. The rocks in Waterfall never did that. Somehow, the difference was...sobering. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Mmhmm,” Sans agreed, turning towards them. But the absolute fixation in his admiring stare, the way the very lights in his sockets seemed to twinkle was wondrous in itself. The sight of his lazybones brother like this—Papyrus couldn’t help but smile with a gladness he had, admittedly, quite missed.

But when Sans had reached out towards the stars, his phalanges spreading out as though to catch as many of those glimmers as possible, Papyrus’s smile had faltered just a little. And he had a thought—just a thought.

He thought about how it might be hard to break the habit of yearning for the unreachable.

“Hey Paps, did you know that stars we see actually exist in a different point in time?”

“Oh!” He chirped, perking up with realization. “I remember this! You said something about—stars being _years_ away? It’d be a long drive? I guess??”

“Mm, it takes time for light to reach your sight just as it takes time driving or walking place to place,” Sans says, nodding as he does. “But stars are so far away that it takes years for us to see them. Hundreds upon thousands of years—what we see now is the _past_. Things could be completely different _now_ and we wouldn’t even know it. Several of these stars have probably changed, or—they might not even be there anymore...”

Sans trails off, his outstretched hand wavering before he finally pulls it back to just cross his arms over his ribcage and sternum. After a while, he just yawns.

And Papyrus—felt strangely and greatly uncomfortable at that point in time.

“So, in fact, we’re _always_ looking at the past...even though we’re always facing forward...”

“When you put it like that, it sounds a little complicated,” Sans mumbles. There isn’t much change in his grin, except there is the slightest crinkle around his eye sockets. As a result, the shadows under them look even darker, though at night, it was a little difficult to tell.

“Indeed, it’s a complicated way of looking at things! The world is a complicated place, Sans! The Surface, especially...”

_Monsters and Humans both..._

“Huh.” Sans shrugged without any care. “ _Eh_.”

“ _Sans_...” Papyrus says, a bit warningly, with a bit of frustration. But he paused, and then, he asked, “Sans, do you ever think of the human?”

“Frisk? Yeah, sure. Tori likes to talk about them sometimes,” Sans replies so easily. So nonchalantly. “Heh, sometimes Alphys talks about them, too. They, uh, really left an impression on everyone, considering they, ah, shattered the barrier and set everyone free, making it so that we’re no longer at risk of overpopulation and overcrowding. Among a couple other things.”

“Other things like being a very cool friend, right?” Papyrus asked expectantly. Thankfully, Sans nodded.

“Yeah, a cool friend to a cool guy. Not a half-bad singer, either, if Shyren’s concert in Waterfall was any indication.”

“Ooh, I remember that! I still have the CD! You really should’ve gotten a signature, Sans!”

“I was...busy, Paps. Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “But, hey, I can speak to Shy later, if ya really want that.”

He doesn’t really. But he would very much _appreciate_ it, he thinks.

“Sans, do you ever wonder about what Frisk may be up to?”

“Hm?” Sans blinks once, drearily, and thinks it over even as his focus now seems stubbornly stuck on the stars. “Sometimes, yeah. I wonder about that weird talking flower friend of yours, too.”

“Ooh! You do?!”

“You don’t remember, do ya?”

“...Remember?”

“Eh, _fuhgeddaboudit_.”

“So you expect me to—forget something I don’t remember??”

“Sure. Forget what’s been forgotten. Sounds like a plan.”

“That SOUNDS nonsensical.”

Sans seemed like he was going to reply, and then he paused. He looked awfully pensive. So pensive, that—oh. Oh no.

“Nonsensical, huh.”

“Sans.”

“Don’t ya mean...”

“ _SANS_.”

“Non- _Sans_ -ical?”

“OH MY **_GOD_** , _SANS_ —!!”

Sans’s hand pressed hard against his teeth, muffling the rest. Wincing, Sans pressed a phalange to his grin, and shushed him. Papyrus blinked rapidly a few times, but he was quiet when Sans pulled away, instead just staring after Sans as he rolled onto his side.

“So, yeah,” Sans said like nothing was wrong, like nothing just happened. “Don’t worry about it. Uh, or about the kid, I guess. I’m sure they’re doing fine on whatever adventure they’re on.”

“...Do you think they’ve...forgotten us?” The question had come out so quietly.

“Dunno,” Sans says. “Don’t really care, either. All the things that matter are in the past, now.”

_You would say something like that._

“You _don’t_ really care?”

“Don’t look too deeply into it, bro.”

Papyrus scoffed. “It seems some things never change.”

Sans chuckled, but he didn’t say anything else. Truth be told, Papyrus didn’t speak much either. The two of them just laid there in silence, staring at the stars with occasional flickering glances towards one another, for quite a bit of time.

* * *

And the truth is—Papyrus thought a lot of things over in that time. Despite what he said, so many things had changed. More things than he ever could have expected—ever could have suspected—changed. And to think it was all due to the actions of one quirky human was beyond mind-boggling.

He had been so concerned about shattering Frisk’s heart when afterwards Frisk went and shattered the barrier! That was just— _SO COOL_!!! Almost cooler than Undyne—but that was such a hard call to make. Undyne was still pretty cool, even now, even when he sadly didn’t see as much of her as he used to. But the New Royal Guard is tough work! Tough, hard, difficult, and—not for him, he later realized.

He...hadn’t minded that realization. But it would’ve been a lie to suggest he wasn’t, at least, just the _slightest_ bit bothered.

Many things had changed, including Papyrus himself. It was...unsettling, quite honestly.

But he was still happy! Life was still great! Everything was fine!

...but...perhaps...not _as_ fine as he would’ve liked?

This might just be another one of those times Papyrus misses the advice of his flower friend. Someday, when Sans gets off for vacation days or whatever— _so surely soon_ —the two of them can return to the Underground for a little while. They can catch up!

...if said flower friend wanted to... But he had to! Why wouldn’t he?!

_...the same reason he hadn’t wanted to wish them off? That he didn’t say—‘see you later’ before everyone left the Underground?_

His excitement and enthusiasm was slowly faltering, or it would if Papyrus didn’t wholeheartedly refuse. Someday, he promised himself—someday for **_SURE_**!!

Someday. He wondered how much more would change by then.

So much changed—so many things were changing.

Sans was still the same, at least, so it’s not like everything’s unfamiliar, but still—no.

No, that’s not really true. It’s easy to act like it is, but...

Taking note of the way Sans stares at the stars, like he could never tire of the sight, like every new moment is discovering a new kind of magic—he’s not so short-sighted he’d believe Sans was the same way with the rocks in Waterfall. Maybe, once upon a time, he was that way, long, long ago in a time before clear memories. Perhaps.

It’s still a change. It’s still different.

But of course he hardly minded—of course he preferred _this_ change to all the others.

It’s a change that makes all those other less preferable changes _worth it_.

It’s not just Sans who’s happier, too. It’s Undyne, it’s Dr. Alphys, it’s King Fluffyboy, it’s—so many other people. In spite of everything, he is happier as well.

He is more uncertain in regards to many other things, but in regards to his happiness, he’s sure he’s happier.

Frisk had done so many wonderful things. As expected of a wonderful friend.

He really should take full advantage of these things and the opportunities provided by them.

He...really, really should.

* * *

“Wow, it’s really late, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Sans is checking his bare wrist and nodding.

“Yup. Sure is.”

“Oh...”

“Heh, so, uh,” Sans pushed himself up, cracking joints as he did and giving one good rattle to reorient himself. Papyrus, despite the disgusted grimace, still perked up when Sans went on, “I gotta get some shut eye sockets in... And maybe you should too, Paps.”

“Oh, I suppose...” Papyrus huffed. “But I won’t forgive myself if I start napping excessively.”

“A little bit of indulgence is healthy now and again,” Sans replied. “D’ya want me to read you a second bedtime story?”

“That...” He couldn’t help concede. So _unfair_ , that Sans! “That...doesn’t sound like a BAD idea, per say...”

“Alrighty.” Sans gets to his feet. “Let’s go, then.”

“Let’s!” Papyrus stood quickly. Sans thoughtfully hummed, but Papyrus was not one to be distracted as he got about climbing back down from the roof. He returned to their apartment with little trouble, swinging in through the window with nothing less than an impeccable landing on the floorboards.

Sans, unsurprisingly already there, gave a quiet little applaud. He proudly bowed all the same before promptly and responsibly closing the window.

“You really are cool, Paps.”

“But of course! I always was and always will be!”

“Yep.” Sans doesn’t even miss a beat. He just widens his grin. “Definitely.”

“Nyeheheh...”

Sans’s chuckle then is lighter, softer.

It definitely goes a long way in making everything just a little greater.


End file.
